Emancipation
by InterNutter
Summary: A serious one for a change! Moya gets a stowaway who turns out to be a missing part :) Complete fic!


Disclaimer: Farscape and its characters belong to Farscape and its  
makers. I just play with it. This story and all original characters in  
it are mine :)  
  
ObInfo: The stuff inbetween the @ signs is sign language. Picture if you  
will the hands moving as they do, and the words appearing in synch at  
the bottom of the screen.  
  
Emancipation  
Catherine Allan  
  
John Crichton had the willies. He was staring with unease at the crowd  
of little aliens ferrying back and forth between Moya's cargo bay and  
the station. They were little creatures, about the size of a small  
child, and they were carrying cargo boxes easily twice their weight. He  
could see their little legs trembling, sometimes.  
Once again, he asked the question that was beginning to annoy Aeryn  
Sun. "Are you sure they're okay with that?"  
Aeryn sighed, rolling her eyes. "For the fifth time, Crichton, *Yes*.  
They're just beasts of burden. They're mute bipeds tamed by the locals  
into a labor force. Just ask one."  
Crichton finally decided to. He picked one at random on her way back  
from loading the Moya. "You there."  
The creature scurried over, fell into a kneel, covering her face, and  
tucked her tail loosely around her waist.  
"Can you talk?"  
The creature shook her head.  
"Do you like doing this work?"  
Nod.  
"What's in it for you?"  
Shrug.  
He sighed, taking in Aeryn's exhasperated look. "Fine. Okay. I'll let  
you go back to it. Shoo."  
The creature scurried away as fast as she could go.  
Zhaan, behind him, had to make an observation. "They walk like you,  
they wear clothes, and they seem to understand every word you say. It's  
no wonder you anthropomorphise."  
"If those horses of yours did the same, then what? Would you let them  
run wild?" Aeryn watched his reaction.  
Crichton shrugged, watching the same alien as she buckled under the  
weight of a crate. "Probably, I guess. I'd definately let 'em choose  
where they wanted to be."  
  
She heard that.  
Even though she had no name, no home, and no life beyond work, she now  
had something the Gods could not take. It was hope. Her mind came up  
with a plan she'd been dreaming about since her days as an infant. All  
it had to do now was work.  
No-one questioned or counted them as they loaded a ship. In fact, her  
people had become a sort of visible white noise. There, but only there  
to be ignored.  
She took up an empty crate from the station, pretending it heavy as  
she walked with it back to the ship full of other Gods. No-one noticed.  
She placed it out of the way in the cargo bay, where no-one would note  
it, and crept inside it.  
No-one would count her. No-one would miss her. No-one would note her  
passing.  
At least, not until it was too late.  
  
Moya swept through space like - well, like a pregnant Leviathan. There  
was no other way to describe her. Moya was Moya, of herself in every  
movement she made.  
Only Pilot, with her in every move, understood her the most, and even  
he knew that Moya was a rule unto herself. Her body chemicals were doing  
alarming things in order to keep the baby healthy and growing. It was  
starting to effect him, as well.  
He felt oddly protective, yet strangely complacent and relaxed. About  
most things, anyway. Moya, and therefore he; felt nervous about a great  
deal of previously non-concerning things. In the end, Pilot let Moya  
rule on this one, and contacted the others with his alarms.  
"Moya is concerned about one of the boxes in the cargo bay," Pilot  
announced. "She keeps telling me that someone needs our help."  
"I'll see to it," Zhaan volunteered.  
Through Moya, Pilot could feel her moving towards the bay. Something  
Moya needed was there, but beyond that much information, the Leviathan  
was silent.  
  
Zhaan let her senses take over as she entered the cargo bay. Now that  
she had achieved the tenth level, she could sense life. It had paid her  
not to excercise this skill when in direct contact with Moya, as the  
sense of the ship itself was not something to trifle with.  
There, over in a corner. Zhaan returned to herself to make the journey,  
and began to hear the someone Moya spoke of.  
She was screaming.  
Zhaan increased her speed in alarm, tracing the sound to a box piled  
under a mass of other boxes. She moved them all without thinking of the  
damage they may or may not do to her body. Someone was in peril of harm,  
or were, at that moment, being harmed. She opened the screaming box  
without hesitation, and very nearly got her nose broken by a flailing  
leg.  
Zhaan siezed it and dragged out their stowaway in short order. She was  
one of the cat-like beings who had loaded the cargo. The fact that she  
was screaming gave Zhaan pause. The Antedalans had told her they were  
mute.  
"Shh," Zhaan tried to soothe her. "It's over, now, you're safe."  
The tiny creature kept thrashing, almost in peril of hurting herself.  
Obviously, strength was in need here, not soothing.  
Zhaan siezed the little creatures arms by the wrists, and tried to  
shout, "Stop that!" Instead, muscle-popping pain shot up her arms.  
The jewelery that the Antedalans had said the cat-creatures liked was  
a means of punishment.  
"Pilot!" Zhaan shouted over the screaming, "I need somewhere on board  
that would muffle an outside signal."  
"Tier twenty-three, with the baby," Pilot announced. "It's the most  
protected spot on the ship."  
Zhaan scooped up her newest charge, heedless of the damage to herself,  
and took off at breakneck speed. She had more than a few bruises by the  
time she arrived, breathless, in the baby's chamber. The cat-creature,  
once violently throwing herself about, huddled in Zhaan's arms and let  
out a few whimpering cries.  
Some of the DRD's were moving towards her already. Zhaan laid the girl  
down and spoke directly to them. "I need to get these bracelets and leg-  
bands off her. If you can do that without causing her pain, all the  
better."  
The girl whimpered, stirring briefly before unconsciousness claimed  
her again. Zhaan took as much of the stowaway's pain as she could, before  
realising that Crichton had arrived with her box of healing chemicals.  
"Pilot said you could use this."  
"Thankyou," Zhaan took it as the human dropped into a crouch. "It seems  
your instincts were correct about these beings. When I freed her from  
the crate she was hiding in, she was screaming."  
"I thought they were mute..."  
Zhaan nodded, her face suddenly grim as she tested the stowaway's vital  
signs and mixed powders and liquids. She gasped when she saw the girl's  
skin underneath a removed bracelet.  
It was bruised, bleeding, burned, scarred and lascerated.  
"Sweet Creator..." Zhaan whispered. Her shock and horror did not stop  
her skilled hands from moving. Wounds were cleansed, burns salved and  
the map of pain on the girl's arm slowly and almost reverentially  
covered with bandage. Zhaan opened a vial an carefully touched a drop of  
its contents onto the girl's tongue. "It'll help her sleep and heal."  
Crichton winced as a leg was revealed. "Damn," he whispered, "that has  
*got* to hurt."  
"Spread this on her burns," Zhaan passed him a concoction, followed  
shortly by a second, "And this on her cuts."  
"Gotcha." Crichton bent to his task, slower and more careful than Zhaan  
and her practiced movements, but it freed her up to work on the injured  
girl. The bandaging, at least, he knew enough of to adequately cover the  
wounded flesh. At last, she was freed, cleaned and wrapped. Crichton  
covered her small frame with his jacket and scooped up her inert form.  
"Where do you want her now?"  
Zhaan tried to stop him. "John, I can do this."  
"No offense, Zhaan, but you look like you've been through the wringer  
as much as she has. Just tell me where she should go."  
_Wringer?_ Zhaan knew better than to question Crichton's bizarre choice  
of words. Instead, she gathered her medicines and followed him all the  
way to a quiet cell just down the hall from Zhaan's own quarters.  
  
She woke to the noises of a Great Sky Mother, remembered from her  
great-great-great-grandmother's time. Even though she was in pain, all  
was well. Her wounds and skin was safely swaddled, away from direct  
contact with the Mother, away from causing the Mother pain.  
Carefully, cautiously, she rose to her feet and started wandering the  
halls. She was *in* a Great Sky Mother. Her people would be celebrating  
for her, when they had a chance. After so long, her people would be re-  
united with the Sky People.  
She padded with silent feet, tracing a route only her ancestors had  
known before today. It was too early in her body's healing to help the  
Great Sky Mother directly, but there were other ways. There were always  
other ways.  
  
Pilot felt her coming, saw her through the eyes of the DRDs as they  
escorted her reverentially to his nest. Considering how Moya thought of  
her and her kind, he had expected something more - something greater.  
The least she could have done was glow, but her pale skin was as  
muted as any other creatures. She didn't come accompanied by a choir  
from another plane of existance. She came quietly, as if afraid the  
slightest noise would harm Moya and the baby.  
The silence of her movements was too reverential to destroy with his  
normal voice, so Pilot only whispered one word.   
"Welcome."  
Wordlessly, silently, the first Medik to come aboard a Leviathan in a  
long, long time, clambered over the controls and laid her hands on  
Pilot.  
He gasped involuntarily at the sheer intensity of the sensations, and  
understood at once that he was a buffer between Moya and the pain this  
one Medik was in. All the same, he hadn't expected a sensation like  
*this*.  
There was - joining...  
  
Zhaan quietly put her robes back on after her usual naked meditation  
session. The others, she could hear, were asleep, but something felt  
wrong. The childlike creature newly aboard the Moya had stirred in her  
some motherly instincts, and they were very strong ones at that. Thus it  
was that she had to check on an adult being easily half her size as if  
she were Zhaan's own youngling.  
Who was clearly not there.  
Feeling stupid and panicky, she checked under the bed anyway, then  
realised there was someone who knew where everyone was.  
"Pilot, where's our new friend?"  
Nothing. Perhaps he, too, slumbered. There *had* been accasional bouts  
of pregnancy-influenced unconsciousness in the past. Most of them,  
thankfully, were brief.  
"Pilot?" She tried after a few moments.  
Nothing. Mayhap something was wrong with him, and therefore Moya.  
She started running towards pilot's chamber.  
What she found there confused her at first. Pilot was awake, yet  
insensate, and seemed to be having difficulty breathing. He was gasping,  
and almost subliminally moaning. There, in what could charitably be  
called his lap, was the little being she'd mentally adopted.  
The girl was inert, hardly breathing, and intensely focussed towards  
Pilot.  
Whatever it was, it must not be harming Moya, since the ship herself  
wasn't going into defensive mode. With that thought in mind, Zhaan  
prepared to take their pain away. Gently, as if touching a newborn, she  
laid one hand on Pilot and one on the unnamed girl.  
The experience that touched her next was unlike any other she'd felt  
in her long life. The fourth sensation barely held a candle to *this*.  
Her long exclamation of pleasure echoed through the otherwise still  
corridors of Moya.  
  
D'Argo snapped awake the instant he heard it. A Luxan warrior such as  
he would never slumber through the cries of an ally. At least, that's  
what he told himself.  
Zhaan had, in truth, become very dear to him.  
"Pilot, where is Zhaan?"  
Pilot was silent.  
D'Argo drew the obvious conclusion and journeyed down to Pilot's  
chamber.  
  
The next thing Zhaan knew, she was looking up at D'argo's concerned  
face. She smiled a lazy, self-satisfied smile and sighed as she  
stretched.  
"Magnificent."  
"What the hezmana were you *doing*?"  
"Helping," Zhaan stretched again, just to feel the tingle all along  
her body. "As far as I understand it, our new little friend, here, is a  
necessary part of Moya's systems."  
D'Argo smiled at her. "At least you're not permanently mono-verbal."  
"Maybe," Zhaan grinned back.  
D'Argo helped her to her feet just in time for them to witness Pilot's  
recovery.   
Pilot blinked, and carefully lowered the stowaway girl into a little  
chamber that seemed designed for that purpose. He looked slightly guilty  
at their presence, and spent a full minute pressing controls as if  
nothing happened.  
"Pilot," D'Argo demanded, "What *was* that? What did she do to you?"  
"Do?" Pilot went from embarressment to full-blown indignance. "She  
*bonded* with myself and Moya. She's part of the ship. It's a perfectly  
natural process."  
Zhaan made her way to a vantage point where she could peer down on her  
patient and charge. "It must have worn her out, she's sound asleep."  
"Unconscious," Pilot corrected. "Her wounds took a great deal out of  
her, and then she gave everything she had left."  
Zhaan reached down to take the twin sticks out of the stowaway's  
topknot, only to find one of Pilot's hands barring the way.  
"Don't," was all that Pilot said.  
"I only wanted to make her more comfortable, Pilot. I wasn't going to  
take them."  
"I know that," Pilot nodded. "You know that; but she - would not  
understand."  
Zhaan retreated and made her slightly pained way back, casually  
supported by D'Argo's arm.  
"For the record," D'Argo grumbled as they left Pilot with the girl,  
"*I* fail to understand."  
"All she wears is all she *has*," Zhaan told him. "Even taking  
something and putting it aside where she'll see it is considered theft.  
It's part of her ways."  
D'Argo rumbled a growl. "I don't trust her. She incapacitated the two  
most important people on this ship in moments."  
"D'Argo," Zhaan gently scolded, "you could at least wait until she  
tells her story."  
  
She looked like a child in a chair made for people almost twice her  
size. Her head barely cleared the table-top as she cringed in place.  
Zhaan did her best to keep a calm and nurturing environment by keeping  
calm and nurturing herself.  
Her ears were laid back, flattened into twin lumps barely  
distinguishable from the top of her head. Her eyes were wide and  
frightened as they flicked from D'Argo to Rygel to Zhaan and back again.  
"It's all right, you can eat." Zhaan demonstrated with the contents of  
her food tray. "See?"  
The stowaway sniffed the fork, touched it once as if curious to see  
what it was made of, then ignored it. She reached up to her topknot  
while staring at Rygel, and took out the twin sticks she had stowed in  
there. She carefully wiped them on the hem of her simple dress, then  
used them to pick up the food.  
"I *thought* they looked like chopsticks," Crichton said from behind  
the stowaway. He'd crept in while the stowaway was busy sniffing her  
tray.  
The effect of his voice was electric. She jumped from her chair,  
whirled in mid-flight to face the human and landed in the same  
submissive kneel as their previous encounter, pausing only to put her  
sticks back in her hair.  
Crichton whistled. "Looks like *someone's* got some peacekeeper  
issues."  
At that moment, Aeryn Sun marched into the room. "What's going on?"  
"Nervous cat," said Crichton, pointing out their newest passenger.  
"From the looks of things, I'd say she usually isn't allowed on people  
furniture."  
"John," chided Zhaan.  
"How the frell did *she* get on here?" Sun demanded.  
"I saw her sneaking into a crate, last night. I figured if she had the  
free will to escape, I might as well let her do it," Crichton answered.  
"You let an *animal* loose on our ship? Who *knows* what she's going  
to do to us?"  
"Judging from the way she's cowering at our feet, Aeryn; I'd have to  
say, 'not much'."  
"I've had just about enough of your wisecracks, Crichton..." Sun  
warned.  
Zhaan, meanwhile, had knelt to try and help the stowaway to her feet.  
"It's all right, my friend; believe it or not, these are *friends*."  
"If it was up to me, I'd have her off this ship. With, or *without*  
something on the other side of the airlock."  
Crichton objected with, "We can't just dump her on your say so." At  
the very same moment that Zhaan said, "We *can't* abandon her; she's  
part of Moya, now."  
"*Part* of her?" Sun rounded on Zhaan. "How the frell did that  
happen?"  
"Last night, Zhaan helped her 'bond' with Moya and Pilot," D'Argo  
sneered as he pinned Rygel's hand to the table. "Touch their food, and  
you *will* live to regret it. Briefly."  
Zhaan responded to the first part of D'Argo's statement. "There was  
nothing even approaching an intent to harm. I felt everything they  
felt." She could not stop the smug grin touching her face.  
"Oh please," Rygel sounded thoroughly disgusted as he floated out of  
D'Argo's range. "The very image of *you*, Pilot, and *that* in some kind  
of threesome makes me physically *ill*..."  
Zhaan and the others ignored him.  
Crichton joined Zhaan on the floor and tried to soothe the shivering  
stowaway. "Hey, hey, there's no need to be scared," Crichton murmured,  
gently removing the stowaway's hands from her face. "It's all right,  
see?" Slowly, carefully, as if manipulating a puppet, Crichton got her  
more or less up right. His movements were extremely careful as he  
righted her chair, watching her for any flinch. "People who looked like  
me hurt you, didn't they?"  
Nod.  
"You don't have to be afraid, here. We're all equals."  
"Though *some* are more equal than others," insisted Rygel.  
Together, Zhaan and Crichton helped the stowaway to her chair, but it  
was Crichton who pushed the trayful of food slightly towards the small  
being and said, "Eat up, it'll make you big and strong."  
Sun, busily shoving food into her mouth in her usual assembly-line  
manner, rolled her eyes as she chewed. "I still can't believe you're all  
playing second fiddle to a dumb animal."  
"Not *all* of us," sniffed Rygel.  
"She isn't dumb, Aeryn," Zhaan returned to her food. "She *has* a  
voice. She merely chooses not to use it."  
"She ain't stupid either," Crichton added as he piled his tray full.  
"Beneath all that servile attitude is a mind that's sharp as a tack. I  
saw it in her eyes. In *all* their eyes."  
Sun snorted around her current mouthful.  
"Bet you I can prove it. Hey. Do you have a name?"  
The stowaway shook her head.  
"Would you like one?"  
Nod, smile.  
"See?" Crichton grinned. "She has wants, aspirations. Goals, even. How  
could you call her dumb?"  
"Because she's servile and doesn't speak."  
He sighed and faced the stowaway again. "Do you know words?"  
Nod.  
"So you choose not to speak?"  
She shook her head.  
"So - what? Someone banned you from talking?"  
Vigorous nod.  
"And they threatened something dear to you if you did speak."  
Nod.  
Crichton turned back to Sun. "Well?"  
"She's still servile," said Sun.  
Crichton gave up on the peacekeeper. His hands moved as he spoke in a  
peculiar ballet. "Don't mind her," he said as his hands flew, "She's a  
little crazy."  
The stowaway's eyes went large, and her hand froze halfway towards  
picking up a piece of food with her sticks.  
"This," Crichton announced, hands still flying, "Is something from  
*my* home. See, where I come from, there are people who can't hear or  
can't talk, for one reason or another, so they use this. It's called  
sign language. I'll teach it to you, if you want."  
Nod nod nod.  
"Now what can we call you, I wonder?" His hands still flew, but  
sometimes they paused to snatch a foodstuff. "Are you a Sally, a Sue, a  
Katy, or a Kathryn? We can't call you Kitty; that's nearly degrading..."  
The stowaway's eyes never left Crichton's flying hands.  
"Are you an Alice, a Betty, or a Joanne? Alita, Alicia or Maryanne?"  
The stowaway slapped the table and pointed at Crichton.  
"Maryanne?"  
She shook her head and held up one finger.  
"Alita?"  
She drew two fingers together.  
"Shorter than Alita. Ally?"  
Shake.  
"Leeta?"  
Nod nod nod nod nod. Grin. Slap slap, and a pound to her chest.  
"Leeta it is," Crichton grinned. "Welcome aboard, Leeta. I'm John  
Crichton, this is Zhaan, D'Argo, Rygel, and my grumpy friend over there  
is Aeryn Sun." He paused for some more food. "Zhaan, D'Argo, Rygel,  
Aeryn; this is Leeta."  
"Welcome Leeta," said Zhaan.  
"Mrf," chorussed Sun and Rygel.  
D'Argo growled.  
"They're not morning people," said Crichton.  
Zhaan had to smile. There was something about John Crichton that was  
perpetually amusing. The way he turned a phrase, or used his peculiar  
Earth idioms always made her want to laugh out loud. Life with him in it  
was promising to be - entertaining; at the very least.  
"This," Crichton repeated one motion. "Is 'food'."  
Zhaan watched for a while as Crichton taught Leeta. It was a  
fascinating concept, a language for people who couldn't speak. Perhaps  
it could be adapted for species who weren't peacekeeper-shaped.  
  
Leeta had her ears forward and her eyes wide open, the food was almost  
- but not quite; forgotten. Every word, every fragment of knowledge this  
God gave freely was like mana to her - had she even known what mana was.  
For Leeta, it was like waking to the noise of a contented Sky Mother.  
The very sensation nourished her soul. He'd already given her something  
approaching equal stature amongst this crew, and now he was helping her  
communicate without words.  
The Goddess Aeryn Sun seemed more typical of her kind. Leeta failed to  
understand. Was this God an aberrant member of his people?  
_Don't question,_ she reminded herself. _Just learn._  
  
"And how are you, Pilot?"  
Pilot startled out of his reverie to find Zhaan leaning casually  
against his console. He echoed her smile and answered while checking  
Moya's systems. "Wonderful. Moya's more than making up for lost time."  
"Lost time?"  
"My - bonding; with Moya was - less than pleasant. Now, thanks to  
Leeta, its... everything it should have been and more. I used to only  
experience Moya's pain, but now - I know everything of her."  
"I wish I could share something like that," said Zhaan. "Being so  
completely bonded with someone that it's pleasurable just to sense them  
living."  
Pilot merely smiled. "It was - almost overwhelming at first. I still  
find myself in awe of it all. Just the presence of *one* Medik aboard  
Moya makes all this difference."  
Then, without warning, he and Moya were one *again*. The Leviathan was  
an insatiable creature, now that she could access his pleasure and he  
hers. She caressed every atom of his body from within. It was all Pilot  
could do to keep up with her, to give in return to his beloved Moya. The  
message was clear. Mediks are good.  
When he was once more capable of interacting with the world outside  
his tingling senses, he was as alone as he could be, considering that  
Moya was always with him. _Oh, Moya... You *are* wonderful. I always  
knew that, even when it hurt; but.... Are you going to do this *every*  
time someone mentions the Medik? I know it feels nice, but I *do* have  
to keep your systems running until she heals._  
++We are one,++ said Moya, thrumming with contented pleasures both of  
joining and her growing young. ++That is all that matters.++  
This time, Pilot felt it coming, and he was able to set some systems  
on automatic before he was incapable of anything but being with Moya.  
  
It had taken her twenty-four arns, something that seemed to personally  
amaze the God John Crichton. He spent most of his eating time grinning  
like a fool, when he wasn't translating for her.  
"The Moya has two voices, now," he said, watching Leeta's hands fly.  
"Pilot's voice, and my - movements."  
"Say what you will, I *still* think she's a dumb animal," Sun said  
around mouthfuls of food.  
"I have been taught not to challenge the Gods," she said through  
Crichton, "but I must question one who refuses to see the evidence in  
front of her eyes. I talk. Just because I am forbidden my voice does not  
mean I cannot *have* a voice."  
"You just made that up. She's flapping her hands around and you're  
putting words in her mouth."  
"Look, I just *translate*," Crichton said. "And to prove it, I'm going  
to see how your translator microbes handle whatever she says next; so at  
least do her the courtesy of watching her talk, okay?"  
Once under the level glare of the Goddess Aeryn Sun, Leeta was tempted  
to cover her face and hide from her wrath. She fought that urge. She had  
to show at least this God that she was no longer afraid. Much. She  
signed her words, without the translation of Crichton.  
@You are the Gods who will strike down the Sky Swimmers should one of  
us say a single word! You are the Gods with the power to kill from afar,  
to hurt from afar, and to maim from afar! You are the ones who say the  
Sky Swimmers depend on our silence for their lives; yet you mock me for  
doing what the Gods ordered us to!@  
Everyone in the room was blinking, except Crichton, who said, "Cool.  
You get subtitles!"  
Zhaan was busy rubbing her eyes. "Subtitles, John?"  
"Written words over the picture. Back on Earth, we got them a lot with  
foreign films. You get used to it."  
"That," Aeryn finally announced, "was eye-watering."  
@I have a power over the Gods?@  
"Until she gets used to it," Crichton grinned. "And I told you before,  
I'm not a God. I'm just another person. You might have been *told* the  
Peacekeepers were Gods, but they're all just people, too."  
@Of course they're Gods. They took what we needed away and hurt us  
without moving. They said they would kill all the Sky Swimmers.@  
"Sky Swimmers?"  
"Leviathans, Aeryn. Think about it. They swim through space, which is  
part of the sky."  
"I guess it must be one of those things only a retrograde primitive  
can understand, then."  
@Stop being so surly.@ Crichton signed with a broad grin.  
"Crichton, you're either going to stop that now, or I'll do something  
painful to you. At least the animal has a good excuse."  
@Is it because of my fur that you think me a stupid beast? Or is it  
the tail?@  
"Every peacekeeper knows your kind are nothing but animals. A few  
tricks with your hands - no matter *what* those sub-title things say;  
are not going to convince me."  
@I will have to use *my* voice for that?@  
"Probably."  
@And kill Moya and all the other Sky Swimmers in the process?@  
"Saying a few words isn't going to kill *anyone*."  
@I will not risk Moya's life finding out,@ Leeta signed. @I will not  
risk the baby's life finding out. You want to do both; so who is the  
animal?@  
Crichton laughed. "Atta girl, Leeta. You show her!"  
Sun stood with her tray. "That does it. I'm going to eat somewhere  
less asinine."  
Leeta sat up straighter. @I *do* have a power over the Gods. *I* can  
learn.@  
"I... wouldn't repeat that in front of Aeryn, if I were you," Zhaan  
cautioned.  
@I think she may have her eyes closed to me, anyway,@ Leeta signed.  
@Will you help me heal Moya today? All I need is the absence of pain  
while I touch her. I need my pain dulled, but my senses awake for  
Moya's.@  
"Of course, but I wasn't aware Moya was in any discomfort."  
@She tries to hide it from you; but *I* know. I have the memories of  
all my ancestors to guide me.@  
  
"Disaster! We only have seventy-nine boxes," announced Rygel.  
"So?"  
Aeryn rolled her eyes at John Crichton's stupidity. "So the *deal* was  
for eighty boxes of cargo. They're not going to pay us for seventy-nine.  
I knew that creature was trouble."  
"She's *not* a creature, Aeryn," Crichton iterated.  
"She's blotched the entire trade deal we had with these people,  
Crichton. The Antedalans won't trust us, anymore, after we drop of  
*most* of the cargo on Daluvi station..."  
"So we give them a story and offer them a discount, big deal,"  
Crichton still didn't get it. "We'll spin them a story about how Moya  
needed the box's contents for her kid. No-one in their right mind goes  
up against a pregnant Leviathan, right?"  
"Do you think that they'll believe that for more than a microt?"  
Demanded Rygel. "They'll *see* the empty *box*."  
"Obviously *you* never heard of a crowbar. Relax. I'll get rid of the  
box."  
"And what about the hunters?" Asked Aeryn. "The station's heard about  
that missing creature by now. They'll search the ship for her -- it."  
Crichton grinned. "You're slipping," he cooed.  
"That is hardly any of our concern," Rygel sniffed. "I say we sell the  
creature for the most profit and starburst out of here."  
"Not an option," Crichton instantly said. "We can hide her in the  
baby's chamber. They won't *dare* look in there."  
"That's twice that you've used Moya as your personal shield."  
"So what else are we going to do? Get me to take her flying in  
Farscape One?"  
  
@What does *this* button do?@  
"Just try not to touch anything, okay?" Crichton couldn't believe he  
was doing this. "That one is for our air."  
@Your people fly ships like this all the time.@  
"Yeah. And?"  
@How do they know if it's unwell? This entire vessel is all dead...@  
"That is a trick for good old fashioned intuition," He couldn't help  
smiling. "We get used to the way our technology handles, sounds, and  
sometimes even smells. If something goes wrong, we get a feeling."  
@But how do you *bond* with a dead thing?@  
"Practice?" He caught her disbelieving stare. "Trust me. Machines get  
a personality, just like Leviathans do. What happens with humans is that  
they get used to the way things are supposed to be." He stopped her  
questing hands inches from a control. "Uh. We need that to live."  
@I want to be back on Moya.@  
"Same here, kiddo. Same here." Crichton flicked on the comm. "Yo,  
Aeryn. How soon can we rendevous?"  
"I have no idea," her voice came through clearly. "Three... maybe five  
arns."  
"*Five* arns?"  
"Aeryn," Zhaan's voice chided. "She was teasing you, John. We're  
already on our way."  
"Teasing? Who said I was teasing?" Demanded Aeryn. "I think if he  
likes that creature so much he should stay in a confined space with her --  
*it*; for a while."  
Crichton laughed. "Two for two, Aeryn. If you slip and call Leeta a  
girl again, you might just have to admit she's also intelligent."  
"Never."  
"I vote with the peacekeeper," said Rygel. "The little yotz eats too  
much of our food."  
"Which makes her completely unlike a certain member of royalty,  
right?" He winked at Leeta.  
She grinned back.  
"If she's signing *anything* about me while we're talking, I want a  
direct translation," Rygel insisted.  
Leeta twiddled her thumbs and whistled - two skills Crichton had  
taught her himself.  
"Trust me, 'your eminence'; Leeta's a picture of innocence."  
"If she is, then it must have been both forged *and* stolen."  
  
"The frell with what Pilot says about her, the little hairball's  
leading him about by the mivonks. It's allowed to roam the ship at all  
hours..." Aeryn Sun realised she was gesturing wildly and stopped,  
letting out a gust of breath. "Who *knows* what it's doing to Moya  
while we sleep."  
"I never thought I'd say it," Rygel added, "But I agree with the  
peacekeeper. She's a destructive element."  
"She's *part* of Moya," rumbled D'Argo.  
"So Zhaan tells us, who only felt what she'd done through *Pilot*,"  
Sun ticked her fingers as she ran through the list, "who is under the  
spell of that frelling little *beast*."  
At that point, Sun froze, staring past the rest of the crew to a  
distant figure approaching the entrance to the room. Zhaan, D'Argo and  
Rygel turned to see Crichton saunter in.  
"Yo, wassup?"  
"Officer Sun was airing some of her pet theories regarding your friend  
Leeta." Zhaan reported. "I find it interesting that she chose to do so  
without you or Leeta in the same room."  
"Afraid you'll lose, Aeryn?" Crichton had his cocky grin back.  
"So where's the critter now?" Sun demanded, deliberately using one of  
Crichton's own derogatory terms back at him.  
"*She* went off to help Moya."  
"That little *yotz*!" Zhaan stood. "Where is she? She promised she'd  
let me check her wounds the microt she came on board."  
Sun grinned. It wasn't a nice sort of smile. "See? Now it's offended  
Zhaan; and *that* takes some effort."  
"Offended?" Zhaan turned on Sun. "I'm only worried. Leeta is  
neglecting her health in favour of Moya's. If I don't get to her *soon*,  
she could get an infection, or worse." Ignoring Sun, Zhaan left in  
search of Leeta, following Crichtons gesturing indication.  
Everyone else was staring at her. "Have you all gone *mad*? Can't you  
see this creature's got some kind of alterior motive?"  
"Near as I see it, Aeryn," Crichton drawled. "In order for her to have  
a dastardly plan, she'd have to be intelligent. *Animals* don't plot,  
Aeryn."  
Sun's reply was an inarticulate growl before she stormed out of the  
room. There was more than one way to win this little war, and she knew  
just how to strike.  
Pilot was, after all, a *male*...  
  
Moya had been insatiable again. His beloved ship certainly believed in  
spreading the joy around. Pilot hadn't felt this good since - since he  
was told about Moya.  
Someone was massaging his left front shoulder with a healing potion.  
Pilot, still wrapped lovingly in the pleasant haze of Moya's joining,  
murmured and moved his bulk so that the mystery massager could get to a  
particular spot.  
"Ah..."  
"So, you're awake at last."  
Pilot risked opening his eyes. "Officer Sun." This had to be a dream,  
or something. "Why are you --?"  
"Treating your wound?" She smiled benignly. It was a sight that Pilot  
was still unused to. "It just occurred to me that we don't pay enough  
attention to your needs."  
A frisson of alarm shivered through him. Pilot checked Moya's readings  
and functions. Everything seemed normal. Why was he afraid? Of course.  
"I shouldn't have needs. I'm here only to be a Pilot."  
"Everyone has needs, Pilot," Sun worked more of the potion into the  
difficult spot, making him sigh with relief. "Moya needs you; we need  
you; and you need us." She scooped another gobbet of the potion out of a  
bowl and pressed it into his shoulder socket. "You're the most important  
member of Moya's crew, and if something were to happen to you because  
you neglected yourself... we'd be lost."  
Pilot was by no means stupid. "Has another map been found, Officer  
Sun?"  
She laughed. "Of course not. And call me Aeryn. Please." She journeyed  
around him to his right back arm. "We're going to be together for a good  
long while at least; so why shouldn't we look after each other?" Sun  
found his aching muscles with an accuracy that astonished him.  
"How did you know I'd sprained that limb?"  
"You've been sparing it, lately." Slowly, gently, she worked her way  
down from the shoulder to the elbow.  
It was exquisite, feeling the restoring power of it gently invading  
his being. Yet, with the pleasure, came guilt.  
Moya, nurturing, caring Moya, eased that guilt away. ++You don't need  
to be in pain any more, beloved. Let this one heal you while the other  
heals me.++  
All the same, he felt he *had* to keep his vocallisations to a  
minimum, if only for his own intense need for privacy. He was feeling  
more than wonderful, yet there was still a nagging concern of something  
going *wrong*...  
  
Zhaan had been walking for at least an arn and a half. On a ship this  
big with cross-corridors and random rooms, as well as the access points  
to upper and lower tiers; Leeta could be anywhere.  
She gave up being independant and contacted the one person who knew  
where everyone was. "Pilot, can you give me the location of Leeta?"  
A moment of silence. Pilot was either unconscious or --  
"...oohhhhh... Moya..." busy. Definitely busy.  
Zhaan found herself blushing. "Nevermind." She silenced the link and  
headed for the control room. Maybe there were some readings there. All  
the way back to the control room, Zhaan kept an eye out for any sign of  
Leeta. She'd help the Medik heal if she had to drag the little hairball  
out of a service conduit *backwards*.  
Leeta's dedication to healing Moya was endearing, as John had once  
said, for the first billion times it happened. Now she was endangering  
herself just by skipping out on the little appointments Zhaan tried to  
set up. The only time she ever got to check on Leeta was when the Medik  
was asleep, and even then she had a ten percent chance of actually  
*finding* her.  
She scanned the entire ship, searching for little pockets of improving  
Leviathan health. Nothing. She tried a comm trace, and only found the  
others. She only truly began to panic when a lifesign trace still failed  
to pick her up.  
"Oh... Krazdjek!"  
  
"...oohhhhh... Moya..."  
_Whoops... A little *too* much._ Aeryn eased off that particular area  
on Pilot's body, and began pushing her agenda. "You see, Pilot. Leeta's  
not the only one who can care for you."  
Pilot, muzzy with the luxury of a complete absence of pain or anguish,  
sounded slurred as he spoke. "B't Leeta's *not* lookingafterme...  
She'slookingafter Moya. Poor Moya... so hurt f'r so long."  
_It's doing *what*, now?_ "You're telling me that dirty little  
fuzzball is rummaging around in Moya's systems? Alone?"  
"Of course. She can heal Moya where the DRD's can't always be  
effective." Then, changing the subject entirely, he added, "If it isn't  
too much, I have one last niggling spot right *here*."  
Aeryn was already halfway out of his nest/room.  
"Obviously, it was too much," Pilot sighed.  
  
Zhaan entered Pilot's chamber to discover the simbiote working some  
kind of paste into his skin and murmuring to himself.  
"Mmmm... Ah..."  
She politely cleared her throat.  
"Can I help you, Zhaan?"  
"I'm trying to find Leeta, but I'm having no luck. Do you know where  
she is?"  
  
Pilot put the bowl of salve down so he could operate the controls. The  
unease he'd felt earlier rippled to the surface. It wasn't just guilt.  
Moya *had* sensed something, but she was too uncertain to alert him  
about it.  
_Oh, my dear one, please never doubt me like that again._  
"Is something the matter, Pilot?"  
"Yes." Pilot felt the rising fear overtake the small knot of guilt. "I  
can't find Leeta anywhere. The last sighting I have is of her crawling  
into a sheltered maintenance hatch - two arns ago."  
Zhaan's face looked as drawn as Pilot's felt. "A lot can happen in two  
arns. What tier, Pilot? Which section?"  
"Twenty-three, aft... Port side. I'm sending a DRD to meet you and  
guide you to the area. It's one of the maintenace ways that are shielded  
from outside transmissions - or scans."  
Zhaan pinched the bridge of her nose. "I just got a mental image of  
how and where Leeta's in trouble..."  
  
She was, of course, correct. Leeta had fallen unconscious and was  
sprawled over a tool wedged into Moya's flesh. The gas that the tool was  
supposed to vent had long since dissipated into the air recycling  
apparatus.  
"Leeta, you frelling little yotz," Zhaan anguished. "Couldn't you have  
fallen down somewhere where we could *reach* you?" Once more, she tried  
to squeeze herself into the tube, and only succeeded in brushing the  
Medik's bandaged feet. Zhaan extracted herself and activated the comm.  
"It's no good, I can't reach her. Maybe one of the DRDs could tie some  
rope around her, or something."  
"The DRDs *could* do that," offered Pilot, "but then they wouldn't  
receive any signals from Moya and I, so they'd shut down and get in the  
way."  
"She'll *die* if we don't think of something," still a healer at  
heart, Zhaan couldn't accept the idea of losing a patient.  
  
"No," said Rygel. "I said never again and I *meant* it. That furry  
little yotz can pay the price for her idiocy." He folded his froggy arms  
and shut his eyes for a good sulk.  
"Ah, D'Argo," sighed Zhaan.  
Rygel still had his eyes shut. "Don't think you can scare me into it,  
either. I'm not going and that's final."  
D'Argo wrenched Rygel out of his chair and slammed him against the  
wall.  
"Whulp?" said Rygel.  
"Let me explain something to you," growled D'Argo. "Leeta is not only  
needed to help Moya, but she's also a Rhyshainc'ha. They're very lucky -  
as long as they're alive an well."  
"You can't get me to go in there, based on your superstitious  
nonsense!"  
D'Argo drew his blade. "Then let's just say it will be very unlucky  
for *you*, if she dies."  
Rygel squeaked as he looked down at a blade bigger than he was. "After  
some lengthy considerations, I have decided to put the past behind me  
and come to the aid of your fur--" he saw D'Argo's look and corrected  
himself. "Friend, Leeta."  
"How benevolent of you, your eminence," soothed Zhaan.  
  
"It smells like squag down here," Rygel muttered, hauling a rope  
behind himself.  
"Then hurry *up*," barked D'Argo.  
Rygel mumbled under his breath and started to wonder how Luxan flesh  
would taste if bitten hard enough. "Eugh... I can see her *toes*," he  
complained. "Ugly bulbous things. How can you stand to stand on them?"  
"Just get on with it, your eminence, please," begged Zhaan. "Time is  
very important."  
"Ew! I have to touch them!" Whimpered Rygel. "Yeuch!" Laboriously,  
using a minimum amount of contact, Rygel moved the hideous feet of the  
furrball stowaway together, and made sure the rope was secure around her  
ankles. There was no way in *this* life time that he was going to have  
to do it *again*. After he'd tested the knot himself, Rygel scurried out  
of the hole and, once in his throne sled, made a beeline for the baths.  
The distasteful anthropoids could keep the hezmana away from *him*.  
Especially that disgusting little furrball.  
  
John Crichton caught the DRD as it flew towards him. At the other end  
of its trajectory, instead of an angry D'Argo, was an equally furious  
Aeryn Sun.  
"Hey watch it," he called. "What you trying to do? Muscle in on  
D'Argo's action?" He put the DRD down on his workbench and studied it  
for damage. Nothing worse than a flick of rubber from Aeryn's boot,  
easily scratched off with a fingernail.  
"I can't even *find* D'Argo," Aeryn griped. "I could only find *you*."  
"Bad hair day?"  
"Try, 'bad hair *ball*'."  
Crichton rolled his eyes. "What's Leeta done to you *now*? Shed on  
your spacesuit?" He released the DRD back to its work. The yellow robot  
wisely chose another exit from the room.  
"For your information, I think she might be finally killing us off,  
one by one."  
He snorted. "You're kidding me."  
"Tch! I don't *believe* you, sometimes. Look," She marched into the  
room and seized his arm. "First, Zhaan goes missing, then Rygel, and now  
D'Argo's nowhere to be found. Pilot's spending half his time in that 'la  
la land' you keep talking about and *you* - much as I hate to admit it;  
are all I have *left*."  
John sighed, rolled his eyes, and hauled himself upright. "Oh kay," he  
drawled in a tired voice, plodding along the corridors at breakneck  
speed for a snail. "Let's go find everybody and make sure no-one's  
dead."  
"You know you *can* start believing me any time you like."  
"Aeryn, do you have any idea how you've been acting, lately? This kid  
damn near kills herself to get here, spends *all* of her waking hours  
fixing Moya - a task which *you* used to grumble about; and you think  
she's out to kill us all... For pete's sake, she hasn't even got a  
*motive*, Aeryn."  
"Does she have to?"  
"For the last frelling time, Aeryn; no-one is in danger!"  
Zhaan's voice pierced the air. "Get out of the way! She's dying!"  
Sun's jaw almost hit the floor at the sight. Crichton steered her  
between the hall's ribs and watched D'Argo and Zhaan pass by at great  
speed. D'Argo was carrying Leeta's inert body. It looked like she'd been  
burned, then bathed in sump oil.  
"Some murderer," said John. He followed the others back down the  
causeway to Zhaan's apothecary. The place looked as if it had been  
turned upside down. "Whoa..."  
"John, get some water and try to find my antiseptic collection. I need  
to clean these wounds." Zhaan closed her eyes as she measured Leeta's  
vitals. "She's fighting to stay alive. Good. Aeryn--"  
"I'm sorry about the mess," said Sun. "I needed to fix up something  
for Pilot, and... I'm sorry."  
"Plenty of time for recriminations, later. I need you to start  
monitoring her pulse. Every hundred beats, check her eyes."  
Sun dropped her pulse rifle in a corner and did as she was told.  
  
Aeryn Sun, once Peacekeeper soldier, terror of millions, felt like  
dren. No, she was lower than dren. She was the scum-sucking microbes  
that lived underneath dren.  
Everything she'd been taught about these creatures was absolutely,  
totally, and completely wrong; and she hated it. Her world had been  
turned upside down by that retrograde *Earthling*. Again.  
She knew, as sure as there was a tomorrow, that the Mediks were just  
dumb animals that happened to walk on two feet. She was *certain* that  
they weren't to be trusted, and had to be watched, every free moment  
they had. She'd been convinced that, if left unsupervised, they can turn  
deadly.  
Now this frelling stupid little creature had nearly killed herself for  
Moya. How dare it be so noble! How *could* it be so selfless! Why?  
"Why?" She said aloud to Leeta's dirt-smudged face. "Why do it at  
all?"  
Leeta stirred partway into consciousness, struggled a little, then  
spoke. She said, "...moya..."  
Crichton was busy bathing Leeta's newest wound - a gas scald; when he  
saw the wreckage underneath the bandages. "Yowtch... Someone's been  
scratching."  
"With filthy hands," Added Zhaan. "Of all the stupid things to do. Why  
didn't I just *carry* her in when she came back?"  
Crichton passed her an antiseptic-soaked cloth. "Kick yourself later,"  
he advised. "Help her now."  
"From now on, I'm going to thorn her drinking water with a sleep  
agent."  
"Thorn?" Asked Aeryn.  
"Something John says. I'm growing rather fond of his idioms."  
"Spike," corrected Crichton, never looking up from his work. "You  
*spike* a drink."  
"She's coming to," reported Aeryn.  
D'Argo, watching from the doorway, muttered something unintelligable  
in Luxan. The only word Aeryn really caught was 'Rhyshainc'ha'.  
"When she's awake, give her three drops of this, on her tongue. No  
more, no less."  
"What'll it do?"  
"Put her immune system into overdrive. It should be enough to  
counteract the infections she's put herself at risk to."  
Leeta stirred again, this time opening her eyes and looking at the  
assembled crowd around her.  
"Can you hear me?" Aerin asked her.  
Leeta nodded.  
"Try not to talk. Zhaan and Crichton are working on that mess you made  
of your arms. Stick out your tongue."  
Leeta, her slit-pupil eyes wide, obeyed.  
"One. Two. Three. Right. You can put it back, now."  
Leeta made a face, trying to chase the medecine off her tongue.  
"If it tasted good, it wouldn't be medecine, now, would it?"  
Leeta grinned. Her fingers twitched, once, before she stilled them and  
sighed.  
"Any pain?"  
She nodded.  
"Believe it or not, that's a good sign. If you didn't feel anything  
after the wounds *you* just got, *then* we'd worry." Aeryn loked her  
square in the eye. "And Leeta; if I find you're *ever* neglecting  
yourself to help Moya *again*, I am personally going to lock you in a  
room full of amenaties and not let you out until you've used every  
single one."  
Crichton was staring at her with that idiotic grin he got when he knew  
he'd won.  
"What?"  
"Nothing," he grinned. "You're just so cute when you're trying to be  
motherly, is all."  
_For frell's sake..._ "Just get on with it, Crichton, and pass me one  
of those cleaning cloths. Your little furrball looks *and* smells like  
she's been rolling in squag."  
"You called her Leeta," he sang. "You called her Leeta."  
_I'm going to wait until we're out of this crisis, and then I am going  
to kill him._  
  
Leeta woke to find the Luxan standing over her. His face was  
unreadable. She tried to remember that this one was not prone to obey  
the Gods, but the memories of the memories of what the Gods had told  
them were strong. She shrank away from him.  
"Rhyshainc'ha, please; there's no need to be afraid. I doubted at  
first, but now - now I know," his voice rumbled like distant thunder.  
"The legends *are* true. You *are* a good spirit."  
_What?_ Leeta drew her hands out from under the covers to sign at him,  
and discovered that the wrappings were mitten-shaped. She'd been  
silenced.  
"Zhaan insisted," said the Luxan warrior. The God John Crichton may be  
able to call his name, but Leeta wasn't taking any chances. "She said  
that you will *not* scratch your wounds."  
Leeta mouthed, 'Moya'.  
"Moya is fine. In fact, she also insists that you recover *all* your  
energies before returning to your duties. You are stuck here until your  
health improves, and *that* is final."  
Leeta believed him, and curled up all the tighter. Her ears lay back  
against her head so tightly that they almost formed a seal. Then Zhaan,  
healer and Medik rescuer, entered, distracting the giant.  
"Zhaan, she's awake."  
"Good," Zhaan knelt before Leeta's bed and instantly laid her hands  
against Leeta's body. "How are you?"  
Leeta gestured helplessly with her bound hands.  
"That's just to stop you scratching in your sleep," she assured,  
unwinding the extra layers that kept Leeta's fingers immobile. "But if  
you start while you're conscious, they'll go straight back on.  
Understood?"  
Leeta nodded, watching her hands rather than the ominous warrior  
figure looming above. They were held by padding under a thin layer of  
bandage, so it was relatively easy for Zhaan to free her.  
@Who will heal Moya?@  
"You will, eventually. In the meantime, we've all agreed to help."  
@Did I vent enough of the gas?@  
"More than enough," assured Zhaan. "Pilot tells me that Moya won't  
even get uncomfortable for a long time."  
Leeta turned her gaze to the looming Luxan. @You won't hurt me?@  
He scoffed at the notion. "Of course not. My people remember yours as  
performers of miracles."  
@Another lie from the Gods,@ Leeta sighed. @I wonder if there's an end  
to them.@  
"What did they tell you?"  
@Long ago, when they were new to us, they said that the Luxan warriors  
would destroy anyone who attempted to escape - and their entire family.  
It was said that they are so relentless, that they would track down a  
newborn halfway across the galaxy.@ Leeta's eyes turned sad as she saw  
the truth and horror in the Lux-- in D'Argo's eyes. She stopped being so  
afraid. @Most of the things they told us, we were too afraid to test. We  
still *are* too afraid to test.@  
"The Peacekeepers have a lot to answer for," D'Argo growled.  
@So why do you allow two to roam this ship?@  
"There's only one Sebacean on board," Zhaan told her. "Crichton is a  
human, from a place called Earth."  
@I thought he smelled funny for a God...@  
Pilot's viewer came alive, filled with his image. "Leeta. It's good to  
see you awake."  
Leeta grinned. @They're not letting me help Moya, Pilot. They say I  
can't until I gain weight.@  
"Moya won't let you help her, either. Until we get more Mediks, you're  
all we have. We want you to stay with us."  
@Tell Moya I'll look after myself. I promise.@  
  
Almost two weekens to the day after Leeta came on board, Pilot found  
cause for alarm.  
"Approaching vessels!" He called out to the crew. "They're on an  
attack vector, weapons ready!"  
"How long until they attack?" D'Argo asked.  
"Seventy microts."  
Zhaan looked up from her console. "You should have detected them an  
arn ago, Pilot. Is anything wrong?"  
Pilot sighed. "Moya and I were - um..."  
"Say no more. We understand."  
D'Argo, however, rumbled in annoyance. "Give me full maneuverability,  
*I'll* get us out of this."  
"That is - doubtful," announced Pilot. "There are hundreds of them."  
"Then we will die trying."  
Leeta, who had been sitting in a corner, rubbing her wrists together,  
stood in fright. She was looking out the window in a fear Pilot could  
feel without their touch.  
He knew the ships from her memories.  
The Antedalans had come to take their slave back.  
She was out of screen pick-up range by the time they bothered to call  
and demand her.  
  
Leeta ran. The DRD Pilot had assigned to monitor her could barely keep  
up. It was not a planned flight, yet somehow she wound up in Pilot's  
nest, and didn't stop until she collided with his console.  
@They're going to kill her!@ Leeta signed. @Mediks are on board and  
heard them talking. They want to kill *Moya*!@  
Pilot, though in awe of her telepathic capabilities, didn't waste any  
time questioning her. "Moya can't starburst for two more arns."  
@We won't last that long. Even with the defense screens.@ Leeta  
sobbed. @Sky Swimmers from all over started showing up at Antedalas. Their  
crews declared war. They're not going to let us go until we die.@  
Pilot knew that she was talking about more than one 'we'. He also knew  
that Moya would be in intense pain before she went.  
@There's no hope but mercy,@ Leeta signed. She climbed up on his  
console and pressed her forehead against his. #You know what I must do,  
to save her, the crew, and us unnecessary pain.#  
_Moya forgives you,_ Pilot returned. Telling the crew would be  
pointless. They'd only try to fight and prolong the pain. _I forgive  
you._  
Leeta hopped down, her face grim, and unwrapped her bandages.  
It was the first time Pilot had seen the wounds directly. It horrified  
him to see what others had done to her in order to keep her captive.  
Still, he was as resolute as she. Moya was going to go out with a bang.  
Leeta touched her bare hands to Moya's flesh for the first time, and  
the last. If she was going to die for this, she was going to do so with  
her beloved ship's name on her lips.  
"MOOYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" Leeta screamed.  
"MMOOYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" Pilot joined in, his arms tight around  
the Medik.  
  
The Mediks, all around the Leviathan, knew what was happening before  
the Antedalans did. Some deep instinct beyond their memories drove them  
to swarm for the escape pods in one mad frenzy.  
Unfortunately, the Antedalans had never heard about rats and sinking  
ships.  
They opened fire.  
Then something wonderous happened.  
Moya was envelloped in a golden light from tip to tail. The shots  
fired, when they reached her, bounced back along the angle of incidence  
to those that fired the shots. They weren't just reflected. They were  
*amplified*.  
The Antedalan ships who fired went up like fireworks, scattering life  
pods like sparkles in the dark. Others who hadn't fired yet, did so,  
proving their stupidity for once and ever. This was the first time in  
known history that an attacking force annihilated *itself* by shooting  
at the enemy.  
  
It was dark, and Moya was scared. Pilot was scared too, until he  
remembered that he'd shut his eyes. His ears rang with a peculiar  
after-note of their united voices. As it faded, he heard something else.  
"...hahhh(gasp)haahh(gasp)hhah(gasp)..."  
"Leeta?"  
She, too, opened her eyes to look up at him. She burst out laughing,  
leaning against his body, because her legs would no longer support her.  
"What - happened? I thought it was the end."  
#Another Peacekeeper lie. The worst lie of all.# Her thoughts told  
him.  
"Yo! *Pilot*!" Called Crichton's voice. "Where the frell did we get  
*that* from?"  
Pilot turned on the comm. "It appears that Mediks have a secondary  
function once bonded with a Leviathan," he reported. "Leeta believed  
Moya was in danger of a painful death, so she - *we*; screamed. We did  
not anticipate the defensive shield."  
"I'm guessing neither did anybody."  
"Except approximately five thousand Mediks," Zhaan chimed in. "They're  
the only occupants of all those escape pods."  
"Please, no..." Officer Sun's voice was full of anguish. "Not *five*  
*thousand* Leetas running around. *Please*..."  
"Moya insists on taking them home," Pilot announced, therefore short-  
circuiting any debate.  
"Subtitles to the left of me," muttered Sun. "Subtitles to the right  
of me..."  
  
There was a queue for Zhaan's apothecary, now fixed into a proper  
order buy a rather chagrined peacekeeper. The queue wound down, through  
corridors and cross-ways, down access points and along the walkways to  
Pilot's nest, where about ten Mediks clustered around Pilot. All along  
the line, hands were flashing in the air, too many for the microbes to  
translate.  
Past them all, Aeryn sun strode to talk to Pilot, who was resting  
while Mediks clambered all over his body, hands busy at working on his  
aches and pains.  
"I see you're having fun, Pilot."  
"Moya insisted," Pilot sighed, keeping very still as four Mediks  
worked at the spaces between his spinal plates. "Assuming the attitude  
of mourning is more than painful for a bonded Pilot. We're only ever  
supposed to do it once." He sighed and smiled. "Ah... right *there*.  
Mmm..."  
"And Moya?"  
"Hasn't felt this young in cycles. About fifty Mediks are tending her  
scars, now. More as Zhaan clears them for minor duties. They've chosen  
to remain unbonded until the other Leviathans arrive."  
"They're free, now. So why the frell aren't they talking?"  
"Leeta asked them not to. She said something about saving their words  
for a special occasion."  
Sun raised an eyebrow at that. She knew well enough that Pilot could  
remember everything. He'd obviously been asked to keep their secret. She  
rolled her eyes. "Fine. So how long before we reach their home world?"  
"We should be arriving at Antedalas in..." he moved, very carefully,  
to check a reading. "Twelve arns."  
"*Antedalas*?"  
"Yes. That *is* the Medik home world. I thought Leeta explained it all  
to you."  
Sun made a face. "I'm sorry, but there is only a certain amount of  
hand-flapping I can take in one sitting. My eyes glazed over halfway  
through 'the Legend of the Sky Swimmers'." She caught Pilot's look and  
added, "I did *try* to stay awake. Crichton attempted to explain it to  
me later, which only added to my confusion. I thought they'd been  
conquered and occupied by Peacekeepers."  
Pilot, too, had a sort of glazed look which had nothing to do with  
boredom. One of the Mediks had climbed onto his head and was delicately  
treating the flanges at each side of his face.  
"Never mind. I'll get D'Argo to spell it out." She marched back along  
the line to a ripple of hand-signs.   
They all said, @False God,@ and, @We deny you your power.@  
Aeryn let them. They'd put up with a great load of dren from her  
people. It wasn't her place to be defensive.  
  
She found D'Argo in the mild party atmosphere of the rec. room,  
playing his Shilquen, accompanied by a Medik tapping out a beat with his  
chopsticks and one whistling. Aeryn had to smile at the sight. Three  
more Mediks, finished with their food, clapped out a secondary  
complicated beat.  
They stood in a circle, using their, and others hands, as well as  
their bodies, to produce the rythm.  
How could her kind dismiss them as nothing more than dumb animals?  
_Easy._ She realised. _Peacekeepers are supposed to be superior._  
D'Argo's mood was too good to ruin with her questions, and Rygel was  
busy sequestering himself in his quarters. Crichton, of course, was  
unintelligable at the best of times, which left helping Zhaan.  
Her arrival in the apothecary caused another wave of, @False God@'s  
amongst the Mediks. Aeryn ignored it. She never thought of herself as  
any form of deity.  
"Need any help?"  
"*Please*," Zhaan gestured her in. "I'm beginning to think I'm  
treating them in my *sleep*. Thank Khalaan I finally came up with  
something to stop the itching, or we'd have all gone *mad*."  
@False God,@ signed their next patient.  
Aeryn took his bracelets and anklets off. "You're welcome."  
  
John Crichton had to smile. There were little cat people everywhere.  
Crouched or sitting in the queue in the corridors, healing Moya,  
partying with D'Argo, teasing Rygel, or rubbing down Pilot. There were  
even a few - well; celebrating. Horizontally.  
All the party mood needed was some liquor.  
He dodged out of the way of a younger Medik chasing a DRD.  
_Well, maybe not._ There was still something missing. All the Mediks  
were relatively fit. All able-bodied ones. No elders. No kids... All  
underweight.  
_Aushwitz._ His mind said. The images came back to him then. Even  
though the Antedalans probably kept the kids in some kind of creche, he  
still had the shivers.  
He had to talk to Leeta.  
"Any of you know where Leeta went?"  
One pointed while the another signed, @Knock first.@  
Oh. Right. Celebrating. His face went bright red, much to the  
amusement of the other Mediks, and he sat in a hall and dictated a  
letter home.  
"Dad, you are *not* going to believe this, but I think I'm reliving a  
chapter of Exodus..."  
  
Much, much later...  
Leeta stood tall and proud before her former captors, flanked on one  
side by Aeryn Sun and the other by John Crichton. They walked behind  
her, in a lesser's position. This was a clear message to the Antedalans  
and the planet-bound Mediks alike.  
She stared down the ruler as if he were less than slime.  
The ruler of the Antedalans tried the same, and learned that only very  
rare people can ever stare down a cat.  
"Well, this must be the Medik who thinks she's the Queen. Get back in  
your shackles and back to your place; or we'll destroy the Leviathan you  
came in."  
Then Leeta spoke.  
"You have no power over me. You have no power over us."  
There was a hushed gasp as all the Mediks in the area looked skywards.  
Moya was still there, outlined against one of the moons.  
The Antedalan leader went pale. The jig, as Crichton would put it, was  
up.  
"Now leave our planet and let my people *go*."  
Crichton muttered, "Catchy choice of words. I'd listen to her if I  
were you."  
"And what will happen if I do not?" Demanded the ruler.  
"You already have several Leviathan crews attacking you," said Leeta.  
"They only stopped to let me speak to you. Now try and picture what  
would happen if *every* single Medik on this world rose up and used  
their claws against your kind."  
The Antedalan leader stood, motioned to his advisors, and left the  
room at a dead run.  
"You have *claws*?" Crichton asked.  
Leeta unsheathed them with a smirk. "I simply chose not to use them.  
Yet."  
"I *knew* you could turn deadly," said Sun.  
Leeta was still smiling. "Only when provoked, O False God. We, like  
the Pilots, are the protectors and servers of the Leviathans. The outer  
and inner defense against the enemy. It's been thousands of years, but  
things are going to return to the way they were."  
Crichton took in the thousands of freed Mediks busily freeing others,  
applying lotions, and chatting at long, long last. "You realise that the  
Peacekeepers are going to be absolutely *pissed* at us?"  
"Perhaps. But they will have a hard time finding us. There are too  
many Leviathans, and not enough Mediks. Each Sky Swimmer can only bond  
two Mediks, three at the utmost."  
"So who will you be taking with us back to Moya? Your boyfriend from  
last night?"  
Leeta laughed. "Why would Moya need another," she said, leading them  
back to the transport pod. "When she's going to have a whole litter to  
herself?"  
  
~Fin~ 


End file.
